


Dream On

by Nostalgia_101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Sharing a Bed, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgia_101/pseuds/Nostalgia_101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human!Cas has been reunited with Dean & a healed Sam. They go on a hunting trip & stop for the night at a motel…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tropes meme on Tumblr. The request was 'Dean/Castiel: sharing a bed'.
> 
> Set during season nine (I've only seen up to 7.09 so apologies if there's any glaring errors).

Dean watched as Cas attempted to make himself comfortable on two plastic motel chairs he’d pushed together as an impromptu bed. “Dude,” he said, as Cas got his leg stuck through an armrest, “you look like a drunk contortionist. Quit the noble act already and share the damn bed with me before you snap a limb.”

“I thought you were an advocate of personal space?” said Castiel, grimacing as he scratched his arm intently.

“I’m not asking you to spoon me, Cas, although I’m sure you’re cuddly. This bed’s big enough for two. And besides,” he added, shuffling to the left to make room, “if you bitch tomorrow about how tired you are I’m gonna gank you instead of the demon. Capiche?”

With a short nod, Castiel untangled himself from the chairs, gathered his blanket and pillow and shuffled over to lie down next to Dean. They both stared up at the ceiling, listening to Sam’s snores from across the room. “It must be nice for your brother,” said Castiel.

“What must be?” Dean replied. “Sounding like you’ve inhaled a chainsaw?

“No. Being able to fall asleep.” He smoothed the blanket down across his chest. “I’m still finding it a troublesome process.”

“What’s so hard? You shut your eyes, you dream about pie, you wake up.”

“It’s not so much the dreaming as it is the nightmares.” Castiel felt Dean still beside him. “I never knew they could appear so vivid. So unsettling.” He turned his head towards his friend. “How does the human brain cope dredging up so many unwanted images?”

Dean swallowed as he blinked away visions of hell, of his brother bloodied and bruised, of Cas exploding into red matter. “I don’t know, man,” he said roughly, clearing his throat. “I guess that’s why we hope for pie. And maybe some porn.” He noticed Cas scratching his arm again in the dimness of the room and flinched. “If you’ve got bedbugs I have the right to take back my sharing is caring offer.”

“I don’t believe it’s an insect of any sort,” Castiel replied. “This blanket, however, does feel as though it was created as an afterthought to comfort.”

“Dude, we’re in a zero-star motel. It’s probably made out of sewn-together pubes and rat fur.” When Cas itched further, Dean sighed and grabbed the blanket, throwing it to the ground. “Just get under the covers, Itchy and Scratchy.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his bedmate. “No Dutch ovens.”

Cas frowned as he pulled the worn, but much less irritable, blankets over his body. “Why would we need a cooking pot while we slept?”

Dean hid a smile. “Forget about it and try and get some sleep. Count sheep or something.”

“Count sheep?”

“Yeah, you know. Imagine them leaping over a fence or whatever.”

“What would the purpose of that be?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled. “It’s meant to be soothing or some bullshit.”

Absorbing the information, Castiel furrowed his brow. “Does this apply to all livestock?”

“Just shut your frickin’ eyes, dude.” After a short lull, Dean could hear his friend mumbling under his breath. “Cas?”

“I’m counting cattle,” he replied proudly.

Groaning, Dean flipped on his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow.

In the morning Sam woke to find his brother and his friend haphazardly draped across each other in the bed next to him. Stifling a laugh, Sam took out his cell to take a photo. Who knew when it would come in handy as blackmail?


End file.
